


Date Night

by Lady_Blackwater



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Romance, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Car Chases, Clint Needs a Hug, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Falling In Love, Fluff and Crack, Funny, Grumpy Old Men, Have you guys seen Date Night?, Humor, Husbands, I really love the movie Date Night, Inspired by a Movie, Lack of Communication, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Our Brooklyn boys are married and really miss being in love, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Same-Sex Marriage, Sexual Content, Steve Needs a Hug, Top Steve Rogers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, no metal arm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Blackwater/pseuds/Lady_Blackwater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paramus, New Jersey was never in Steve and Bucky's plan.</p><p>Of course, marriage, kids, and a house to call a home was on their list, but they knew better than to believe any of what they wanted out of those things would be accomplished living in the city. It seems odd considering they were both born and bred in Brooklyn, but they were responsible enough to want something better for their kids when they had them.</p><p>While Paramus is quiet and for families like the one husbands Steve and Bucky Rogers made for themselves, it's also really fucking boring.</p><p>Unfortunately, the suburbs had taken a toll on their marriage, and that has also become really fucking boring.</p><p>Without a doubt, Steve loves Bucky and Bucky loves Steve with all the passion in the world, but the spice and spark that was there when they'd first met was gone, and it rocked them both to the core when they felt the other slowly giving up on trying to get it back.</p><p>At least, they still have date night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so hi. 
> 
> I'm a piece of shit. 
> 
> Have any of y'all seen the movie, Date Night with Tina Fey and Steve Carrell? 
> 
> Yeah, I fucking love that movie. 
> 
> I was watching it the other day, and all I could do was imagine my favorite Brooklyn boys. If you haven't seen it, I recommend you do, cus you will laugh ya ass off. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this shitty AU that I had no business writing and no one asked for.
> 
> Don't forget to check out my other story, "Brother."
> 
> I love y'all. :) BYEEEEEEE

Pietro and Wanda Rogers worked like little machines. Eating, crying, pouting, screaming, loud, seven year old little twin machines that like to wake up nearly every weekday morning at precisely three minutes to five and wake their daddies up.  
  
"Dad? Papa?" Pietro tiny voice rings out in his parent's quiet bedroom, staring at their sleeping bodies with great confusion as to why they're not up yet. "Can I have some breakfast?" He asks sweetly, yet neglects to use a "please."  
  
"Honey, don't move," Steve grumbles below his breath to his very awake husband lying on the other side of the bed, trying to salvage whatever few second he has of being in bed left.  
  
Before he can get an answer, Wanda, the younger of the twins, pounces out of nowhere right on top of Bucky and Steve, knees first. "Daddy! Papa! Wake up! We're hungry!" She shrieks, much too energetic for four fifty-seven in the morning. "I love you!"  
  
They'd been told many a times to not do so, but they're just as hardheaded as their parents used to be and jump on the mattress as obnoxiously and disturbingly as they can anyway till they wake up. Pietro knew better than to join in, but he does regardless.  
  
" _How_ do you have _so_ _many_ knees?" Bucky groans and grunts when the children bounce their little bodies into the men like trampolines, rocking the bed.  
  
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" They chant in unison, never stopping their feet till Steve rolls over and knocks them both on their little behinds in a fit of giggles. Steve would probably find it cuter if he weren't dead tired.  
  
"Okay, okay," he reasons, hands up in surrender. "We're _up_. No more jumping. You guys get ready for school. Papa and I will get breakfast ready."  
  
"Yes, Daddy!" They cheer in unison and rush off down the hallway with heavy feet on the hardwood floor. Once the sound of the running faucet fills the quiet upper story of the house, Bucky rises and swings his feet over the side of the bed, rubbing his face of sleep and massaging out his muscles.  
  
"You ready?" Steve asks, cracking his back as he stretches on his side of the bed.  
  
"Let's do this," Bucky responds, completely unprepared to get up even though he has no choice but to. His body is lagging when he stands from the bed to go to the bathroom.  
  
Another day begins.  
  
Another day consisting of a boring job, a boring home, and regretfully boring sex life. Both men don't comment it, but _yeah_ , it's there.  
  
By six, Bucky has pancakes and bacon going on the stove while Pietro sits at the cornered counter on a bar stool, playing mindfully with his action figures. "Papa, can I have pizza for breakfast?"  
  
To humor him, Bucky nods. "Yeah," he says seriously and brings the pan of sizzling bacon to his son's plate.  
  
The little boy pipes up and turns to stare at him incredulously. "Really?"  
  
"No," Bucky respond in the same tone as before and smiles a little to himself when the boy pouts and picks up his fork to eat what Bucky cooked.  
  
Wanda stands atop of a dining room chair across the room, still undressed for school despite Steve's instructions. Bucky's eyes automatically roll. He's told this girl time and time again that she'll hurt herself doing that.  
  
"Wanda, get off the chair," he tells her, and puts the pan back on the stove.  "You'll hurt yourself."  
  
Wanda, being the testy little thing she is, snaps back with a stubborn "No way!"  
  
There's _no_ doubt she is a product of Steve Rogers.  
  
Bucky doesn't even look up from the stove when he flips another pancake. "Wanda, I'm gonna count to three," he says threateningly, already knowing he'll win this one before it even becomes a competition.  
  
"No, Papa!" she shouts indignantly, stomping her rain boot on the wooden seat of the chair.  
  
"Here we go," Pietro says under his breath and chomps on his pancake with a smug look.  
  
Bucky continues fixing Steve's plate for when he comes downstairs and holds up one finger towards his daughter. " _One_ ," he tests and she just points a tiny finger at him.  
  
"Papa," she responds in the same voice, like she was testing him right back.  
  
Another finger pops up while Bucky sets the plate aside. " _Two_ ," he says.  
  
"Papa!" Wanda cries, a second away from defeat.  
  
" _Three_ ," he says and it breaks her. "Go get dressed, please."  
  
The little girl grumbles and tosses the stuffed animal in her hand to the floor, hops back on the floor, and grumbles the whole way up the stairs and passed Steve.  
  
"You one-two-three her?" Steve asks, entering the kitchen, impressed when he holds a snicker in at Wanda's pouting. He's got his regular work suit on.  
  
"Works _every_ time," Bucky answers, turning to face him, then having to keep in a groan at how _often_ Steve wears _that_ suit. He still looks good as hell, all broad shoulders and thick thighs, but at this point, the suit did nothing for him. He doesn't let himself stare when Steve kisses Pietro on the head then gestures to the fridge.

"I'll start on the lunches if you want," Steve says and opens the fridge to retrieve the peanut butter and jelly.  
  
"Yeah," Bucky huffs and feels bad for feeling a little less than nothing when he passes by Steve to get upstairs and takes in that same old cologne he always wears. There was a point in time where that cologne was Bucky's world, now it meant literally nothing and reminded him of suburbia, boring suits, and a dead love life.  
  
He takes this time to go upstairs and get himself ready for work. Real estate wasn't in the plan, either, but it's stabling. No thoughts in particular run through Bucky's head when he feels the sharp pain of the wooden bathroom drawers sting him in his lower thighs and knees when he enters the bathroom. Looking down, he rolls his eyes with much exaggeration at the stray of open drawers Steve left open.  
  
" _Dammit_ ," he hisses and silently shuts them all. This happens way too often for him to even bring it up to Steve, so he lets it go and grabs his toothbrush.  
  
Once dressed and ready for work, he's back downstairs in the kitchen, watching Steve sloppily spread jelly onto a piece of bread. He's never fixed a proper lunch a day in his life, and it's almost precious that he tries.  
  
"Thanks for getting them started," he says and takes the knife right from Steve's grasp, making him curve around Bucky to finish gathering his belongings for work.  
  
"Oh, you don't want me to finish-?" He tries.  
  
"No, it's fine," Bucky insists and smooths the jelly accordingly across the bread. "Pietro won't eat it if there's too much jelly, so _I'll_ just do it."  
  
Steve turns back around to face Bucky, and his husband gives him a quick once over before adjusting his crooked tie. Instead of looking Steve in his eyes, he gets distracted by the ceiling and grimaces.  
  
"Ugh, that plaster is really cracking, babe," he notices. "Gotta get that leak fixed. Did you-?"  
  
"Yeah, already called the guy," Steve says and nods. "He's coming on Tuesday. What about the spider's nest on the porch?"  
  
"Already called the exterminator," Bucky informs him  and smooths out his tie.  
  
"Alright," he says and leans in to peck Bucky's cheek. "Gotta go, love. Bye," he says and is out the door in an instant, leaving Bucky with a just as unenthusiastic "Bye!" and spreading the jelly for Pietro and Wanda's lunches.

* * *

 

  
By eight, Steve's in his office, looking over the tax files for Mr. and Mrs. Whoever Because He Can't Remember Their Names as they sit before him, showing more affection than most couples really should in public. He has had to interrupt them from slobbering and just about fucking on his office carpet once or twice.  
  
"Well, according to this, we can get you guys a six hundred dollar refund," he states, closing their file and meeting their unexpected yet excited expressions.  
  
"Shut up," the male says first in disbelief with a wide, goofy smile.  
  
The female follows behind and squeaks a little. " _Shut up_!"  
  
Steve supposes he should try to appeal a little since they're younger and clearly really ditzy in love. "I'm not gonna shut up," he deadpans with a very put on, awkward smile.  
The female is squealing and clapping her hands while her boyfriend or husband or whoever nods enthusiastically and points to him.  
  
"You see that? You're making my lady excited!" He says and bumps his fists on the desk with each word he says. " _I like you_!"  
  
"Well, I'm glad you're happy," Steve tries to say, but the male has more to say and the female hasn't stopped cheering. _Oh, jeez..._  
  
"Oh, we are going kite boarding in space!"  
  
"Guys-" Steve tries.  
  
"How _sexy_ is that?!"  
  
"Um," Steve twiddles his pen around and looks boredly at his clients. "You know what would be _even_ _sexier_ than that? How 'bout starting a Roth IRA?"  
  
Completely ignoring him, the female puts her hands up and gasps. "Oh my god! When we're there, we can totally do it on the beach, like, twenty times," she says and her boyfriend whoops loudly.  
  
"Yeah, I'm gonna go with _that_ ," he agree, laughing and and points to his girl, pumping his fist into the air. "I mean, c'mon, Steve, you would, too. 'M I right?"  
  
Steve sighs and dawns on the last time he had sex. Yeah, _that_ long ago.  
  
"Well, food for thought," he says simply and internally envies how the couple touch each other. He's certainly happy at least someone feels better than he does right now. He wonders how Bucky's doing.

* * *

 

 

It's a lengthy, unenthusiastic day of showing houses and helping people with their taxes before six-thirty rolls around and Bucky, Pietro, and Wanda are all camped out in the living room, watching TV, when Steve rolls in with his shirt buttons undone and his tie loosened. He looks just as tired as he usually does at the end of each work day, with bags under his eyes, a tight line for lips, and hair tussled from wanting to pull it out all day.  
  
"What is up, peeps? Ah, the Rogers's. I love 'em" he greets with what little energy he has left, and Bucky barely waves or looks up from his laptop when Steve plops down on the sofa, face first.  
  
"Dad, come play G.I Joes with me," Pietro demands and blinks expectantly at Steve. Wanda pokes his face, but her eyes are still glued to the television.  
  
"Yes, yes," he says as an immediate response and gets comfortable against a throw pillow. "Just lemme sleep for about _seventy_ something years, and then we're gonna have the _greatest_ G.I Joe battle _ever_."  
  
It's only a minute later when the patio door opens and closes shut, crossing over Darcy Lewis, the high school senior who lives next door. "Greetings, Rogers's," she says happily and sets her purse on the floor as she leans on the couch.  
  
Steve glances at her with one eye open. "Oh, Darcy," he says and looks to Bucky who just shrugs, obviously not knowing why she's here. "Hey, um, is everything okay at your house?"  
  
Darcy nods and smirks a little. "You still need me to babysit, right? Isn't it _date night_?"  
  
Ah, yes. _Date night._  
  
Steve's brows shoot up at that when he tries to recall today's date. Sure enough, it's that night of the week. When the twins were first born, Bucky and Steve set aside one night a week to be together in attempts to keep the romantic elements of their marriage lively. At this point, date night might as well be a business lunch between old friends. It's not really a drag, but what's the use?  
  
"Yes," Bucky blurts out, only just remembering when Darcy mentioned it. " _Date night_."  
  
"Yay," Steve sings with little life. "That's right. It _is_ date night," he repeats, sits upwards, and exhales. "Thanks for coming, Darce so we can go on date night," he says again it just to liven the words themselves up so that they don't fall flat to Bucky's ears. He's not sure if it's worked since Bucky looks pretty uncaring of the subject.  
  
"Is everything okay?" Darcy asks and Bucky nods with a small grin.  
  
"Um, yeah, _date night_ ," he repeats Steve and finally looks at him. "Babe, if you don't wanna go or you're too tired-"  
  
" _No_!" Steve says quickly and shakes his head. They needed this, and Steve wasn't gonna let him being too tired be a remaining factor in his dull marriage. "No, it's fine. I'm good. Been looking forward to it all week," he smiles warmly and adds on, "Unless _you're_ too tired."  
  
"No!" It's Bucky's turn to be quick and he shakes his head nonchalantly with an even warmer smile in return. "No, we should go. We'll have fun. _Right_? We should go. We should go? Let's go. Should we?" He rambles to himself a little, trying to find an answer on Steve's gentle, handsome face.  
  
He blinks at Bucky and gives his best relaxed face. There's something quite unsettling about Bucky's conflicted and indecisive babbling on the one night a week they've dedicated to themselves.  
  
It's seven when Bucky and Steve are in the same restaurant that's a hop, skip, and a jump from their house that they've been going to since date night was even thought of. They even order the _same_ thing. It's really a shame that they're here so often that they always get the same chippy waiter who knows them on a first name basis and doesn't even mind writing down their orders.  
  
The upside is that Bucky doesn't have to cook, and when they're alone like this, they subtly lapse into who they used to be before the house, and kids, and leaving the city. It's refreshing for the few hours they're out ti it dawns on them that they have that suburban lifestyle to go back to.  
  
Until then, they're Steve and Bucky again instead of the Rogers's.  
  
"Oh, and on Sunday," Bucky remembers suddenly in the middle of their conversation, "Pietro's friend has a birthday party."  
  
"Sounds fun," he says and thinks for a second. "I'm getting the present?"  
  
Bucky nods and chews his mashed potato. "Yeah, but the kid's parents are kind uppity, so nothing from China or with batteries," he explains and just shakes his head when Steve is unresponsive. "Never mind. _I'll_ just get it. It'll be easier."  
  
Steve shakes his head ' _yes_ ,' and sips his drink. He really _hates_ when Bucky does that. He doesn't mention it though.  
  
"This is really moist this week," Bucky comments out of nowhere, pointing to the gravy in his plate with his fork.  
  
"Mine's actually kinda dry," Steve says just to keep it interesting, but the conversation dies before it even arises when Bucky just nods politely and continues eating his pork chop.  
  
Neither are sure if the silences the frequently fall between them are comfortable or awkward. It happens so often that they can't tell anymore, so instead of saying anything, they just sit there in silence with nothing but the scrap of forks against plates. It's a little heartbreaking and downright pathetic that they actually lived to see the day where they ran out of things to say to one another.  
  
Steve scans the restaurant to occupy himself from being consumed by their silence. He likes people watching and a small smile takes over his face when he peeps the couple on a date of their own across from them in a booth. Their body language is tense, so he gets Bucky's attention. They used to play this game all the time when they were first married.  
  
"Hey," he says and Bucky looks up hopefully.  Steve nods his head towards the couple and smirks. "What's the story?"  
  
Bucky smiles, looks in the direction Steve nodded to analyze the couple, and sits up in his seat. "Um, it's their third date. First one was _okay_ , second was _bad_ , and the only reason she even agreed to a third is so that she can figure out if he's really as boring as she thinks he is," he laughs and Steve does too when the lady matches the description Bucky'd given with a huff, a forced smile, and eye rolling that is kept to herself while the gentleman keeps on talking and talking, oblivious of his date's disinterest.  
  
Steve snickers. " _I love roast beef. I also really love potato_ ," he says in a distinctively snooty voice, matching the guy's movement in time with his lips and body language. " _They're delicious, but I never actually put the potato in my mouth_ ," he goes on when the gentleman continues talking on and on with a piece of potato on his fork that'll probably never get eaten given how many times it's been near his mouth.  
  
Bucky joins in with a low giggle and fixes his posture to match the lady's. " _Um, that sounds amazing, Jeremy_ ," he starts with a high pitch, nasally voice, looking them both down with a shit eating grin. " _But I have to go home and breastfeed my cat_."  
  
Both men lose it and laugh aloud this time, ignoring the looks they get from other people. It feels good to laugh again so openly and honestly, especially with each other. It's been a while, really.  
  
"Oh, boy," Bucky pipes up and gestures behind Steve at another couple who happen to be gay and sitting on the same side of the booth. "Look at _these_ two lovebirds."  
  
Steve turns his body.  
  
It's like looking into a mirror from several years ago. They're a pretty young couple which explains why they're showing as much affection as they are by nuzzling their noses and whispering softly into each other's ears, completely distracted by the outside world. Steve sighs and turns back to Bucky.  
  
"First date," he decides, but Bucky shakes his head and points with his fork.  
  
"Nope," he says. "He's gotta wedding ring on. They both do."  
  
"What? _Married_?" Steve says in disbelief and turns back around to take in the silver bands around each guys left ring finger. Shocked, his eyebrows raise and he looks back to Bucky. "No, they are not married. They're sitting on the same side of the booth. That's _not_ a married move. That's a, ugh, 'I'm stupid' move."  
  
"Showing off is what it is," Bucky adds and eats another piece of pork chop.  
  
Steve ignores the wave of nostalgia that washes over him. "And _how_ do you even talk to someone sitting on the same side of the booth? Ya know?" He pretends to refer to a person on his left by just turning his head to demonstrate. "You're, like, craning your neck like _'oh, hi_ ,'" he says to his imaginary friend.  
  
"Those are definitely wedding rings, though," Bucky insists and frowns a little when the two men lock their lips and fervently kiss the other with cupped hands over the other's face and light moans. "Oh, c'mon, this is a family place," he scoffs, and Steve turns to look at the scene unfold.  
  
No way those two were married. No married couple kisses or touch each other like that anymore. Right?  
  
Or maybe it's just _them_.  
  
Steve misses being kissed like _that_ and having his face cupped because it made him feel safer. God, Bucky misses Steve's hands on his body, caressing him gently when he eases inside of him when the time is right.  
  
They miss everything. They miss it all.  
  
Steve misses being attracted to Bucky. Bucky wishes he felt something more for Steve.  
  
Watching the passion unfold with envy, Steve and Bucky miss the question their waiter had asked. "Hey, what?" Steve says, looking up at him, feeling kinda flustered and wondering when he'd gotten there.  
  
"I said, are you Rogers's ready for dessert?" He repeats, presenting him with a dessert menu.  
  
"Oh," he hums and gestures to Bucky. "Hon, what did you think?"  
  
Bucky shakes his head and twists his red, pouted lips to the side. "Nah, I'm tired."  
  
Steve can't tell if he's lying or not. "Oh, no thank you then," he says to the waiter. "Just the check, please."  
  
The waiter disappears to get the bill.  
  
The silence returns.  
  
It goes on for the car ride home, and when they get inside the house, the kids are tucked away in bed. The news is on in the living room where Steve lays tiredly on the couch while Bucky makes a pot of tea.  
  
He's a little shaken and can't fight how sad he feels at what's become of his marriage. He's happy to a certain extent, but he really wants the Steve he married back. That Steve was exciting and spontaneous and would bring him home flowers and kiss him till both their lips were swollen.  
  
He's afraid to mention it, but he knows Steve feels it, too. There's no way he _can't_.  
  
If he's honest with himself, he misses having orgasms, that's for damn sure.

He misses those artist hands more than anything, but mentioning it would probably hurt Steve's feelings considering the man really does try.  
  
Bucky watches the tea brew with a focused frown. He wouldn't be surprised if Steve up and left him. Who'd wanna stay here, anyway?  
  
Tea in hand, Bucky shuffles down the hall to the living room. "Hey," he calls to his half asleep husband. "Going up soon?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll join you in a sec," Steve says and points the remote at the TV. "Just trying to catch some sports."  
  
Bucky nods and too looks at the TV, to only scowl at the sight of district attorney Johann Schmidt giving the world's most bullshit endured speech about cleaning the streets of NJ with the help of him and his broom. Yeah, the man carried around a fucking broom as a prop gimmick and while most found it cute, Bucky's unfazed and just rolls his eyes.  
  
"I'll see you when you come up," he says and sips his tea up the stairs and to the bedroom where he strips down to get into his pajamas. He can't remember the last time he'd slept naked just to feel himself against Steve. It was probably before the kids thought it was appropriate to jump on them every morning.  
  
Steve joins him a few moments later. Bucky tucks his retainer in his mouth, which makes Steve frown.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Oh, what?" Bucky lisps over the retainer.  
  
"It's just you put your retainer in so I guess we're not gonna, ugh," Steve makes an obscene motion with his hands and blushes a bit.  
  
It's almost adorable how excited and underwhelmed with that idea makes Bucky. As much as he wants to, he doesn't have the  energy or heart to tell Steve that he'd rubbed one out while he was still downstairs. It's the thought that counts, and it excites Bucky regardless. "Oh," he trills and makes no motion towards the bed despite feeling obliged. "Oh, um, no we can _still_ fool around."  
  
"Are you sure?" Steve asks, feeling like he'd overstepped his boundary in asking his husband to have sex with him. "Only if _you're_ into it."  
  
"No, ugh, I'd love to, babe," he opens his mouth to take his retainer out, "lemme just, ugh-"  
  
He fishes the thing out of there, bringing a healthy amount of slobber with it, turning Steve off completely when it dribbles down his chin. "Okay, Y'know what? No, it's fine," Steve stops him, since they've got an early morning tomorrow anyway and there's a bit of energy going into gay sex - it's energy neither of them _ever_ seem to have.  
  
"Let's just get to bed. It's fine if we don't, hon," he continues when Bucky shoots him a confused, desperate look.  
  
"No, lemme just wrap my head around it first," he puts his hand up to Steve and chants boner, boner, boner in his head a few times before realizing that maybe tonight's not the night even if he had managed to get a little hard. It's a dirty shame he has to think himself a boner to have sex with Steve.  
  
Steve must feel how pitiful it is and just shakes his head, deterred from even touching Bucky with how unattractive he feels. "Honey, it's _fine_. Seriously. Let's just get some sleep, yeah?"  
  
"You sure?" Bucky asks to be nice. "I mean, that gravy made me a little gassy."  
  
That's the nail in the coffin. "Um, yeah, let's do a rain check."  
  
"Cus we could do the fast version, and -"  
  
"Nope," the blond insists.  
  
Steve turns his bedside lamp off and kisses Bucky's cheek before sinking into the comforters on his side while Bucky does the same on his own. There was a time when the bed didn't have sides, and the men took up whatever space they could.  
  
"I mean I could just suck you off _really_ fast and-"  
  
"I'm good," Steve answers too quickly. It's nice of him to offer, but he'd rather not get the pity. He's tired now anyway.  
  
They stare at the ceiling in yet _another_ silence.


	2. 2

_"About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him-and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be-that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him_ ," Steve reads deadpan from the thick, black paperback novel in his hands. That's his stopping point, so he glances up at the women surrounding him and is met with heavy sighs.

To his left, Bucky's friend, Beth, sighs the loudest and shuts her book with tears in her eyes along with the other members of the book club.

"Thanks for reading aloud, Steve," she says and shakes her head in wonder.

"Okay..." He says awkwardly under his breath.

" _This_ part _really_ spoke to me. I mean, to be a seventeen year old girl in her sexual prime to fall in forbidden love with a _vampire_? And _then_ to discover your best friend's a _werewolf_?" She recalls dramatically, checking around the room for agreeing expressions.

"Gosh, I couldn't stop crying," Laura, Bucky's other friend and the owner of the house they're holding this book club in, pipes up and clutches her chest. Bucky nods in stale agreement beside her.

"Same. _Literally_ couldn't stop crying," Beth tells them, eyes glistening towards the ceiling then back to the group.

Bucky speaks up now. "Me, too," he says and nods to Beth. "Well, figuratively."

"No!" Beth exclaims with her voice caught in her throat, catching Bucky off guard. "I literally, _literally_ , could _not_ stop crying!" She goes on, doing her best to keep it together while everyone else glances passed her to Bucky and back again.

That doesn't stop Steve from uttering under his breath in bored, logical annoyance. "Quite dramatic," he murmurs in reference to the book, maybe to appeal to Beth so she'd quit crying.

That earns him a sharp look. " _Dramatic_?" She repeats, and Steve looks up to see she's in that stage between keeping it together and bursting into tears. He swallows at her tone.

"What he means is that's it's a really moving concept," Bucky chips into rescue.

Steve agrees with a nod even though he's so unfazed by the novel that he could go the rest of his life without reading it and be fine. "Um, yeah," he says anyway, shooting Bucky a thankful glance.

 "Y _ou have no idea_ ," Beth starts, sounding distressed that Steve even thought to voice an opinion, “What it's like to be a seventeen year old girl and finding the love your life is a vampire."

Being the little shit he is, he can't help but chuckle and answer with, "Yes, true, and neither have _you_."

He can practically feel the daggers on him when he shuts his eyes and groans to himself as quietly as he can.

Steve's not sure how in the hell he'd ended up in this position, but here he is. Book clubs were never apart of he and Bucky's plan.

How'd he ended up in _this_ specific book club is due to the fact that these women thought because they were gay, they'd be gung-ho for joining. Either that or they needed to fill their stereotypical 'gay man in the neighborhood book club' quota to compete with other book clubs and enticed Bucky and Steve with finger food. They said yes on impulse - the ladies wouldn't stop asking till they got their desired answer and here they are. It's something for between date nights, at least.

Steve's everywhere he doesn't wanna be with people he doesn't wanna be with. It doesn't seem so terrible when he notices the smile on Bucky's face when he reads these books, though.

Like a savior, Laura's husband, Clint rounds the corner into the living room, jerking his thumb down the hall towards the basement. "Hey, Steve, you wanna help me with-" he starts, but doesn't have to finish when Steve sees his escape.

"Yes, yes, yes. Whatever it is, yes," he quickly says, setting the book on the coffee table, and hurrying out the living room like he'd been set on fire. "Excuse me ladies. Oh, God." He follows Clint down the stairs of the basement to his man cave.

"You have your period, don't you?" Bucky asks knowingly to Beth who simply smiles brightly and nods with great pride.

 

 --

 

"You should read that," Steve suggests to Clint once they're safely downstairs out of earshot of the rest of the guests. "It's about a girl falling in love with a vampire."

"I don't even know how you even still come to book club," Clint commends him, reaching into the cooler beside the pool table to fetch him a beer.

Steve just shrugs. "Well, that's marriage," he tells him simply, sitting on the edge of the couch and accepting the beer. "Sometimes you do things you don't wanna do."

Clint opens his bottle and rolls his eyes with a self-deprecating smile. "Not _me_. Not _anymore_."

"What? What are you talking about?" He questions with scrunched, bushy eyebrows at his friend.

"Laura and I are splitting up," he tells him, and it sounds so foreign for Steve to use those words together in a sentence.

Clint and Laura have been together for _years_! Can they just _split up_? Just that July, he and Bucky were over here for the Fourth of July. Everything was _fine_... They were laughing and having a good time with everyone else.

And now they're _splitting up?_

The confusion is written plain on Steve's face. "What? B-but you guys are _happy_." 

"No, Steve, we're _not_ ," he corrects him patiently and swirls his beer around.

Declining this, Steve stops him. "No, no... You guys are _really_ happy," he repeats like he has to convince Clint.

"No, we're _really_ not," he says back, almost as unbelieving as Steve is.

Running a hand through his hair, Steve stares off in disbelief, trying to piece whatever is happening together. "Okay, Clint, then wh-what? Why are we here, in _your_ house for book club?" If Steve had known this earlier, he would've have subjected himself to the abuse of reading this godforsaken book.

Clint frowns and rubs the back of his neck. "We haven't told the kids. Just, please, keep it on the down low till next week when we go public with it. Don't tell Bucky."

"Yeah, of course," Steve shakes his head yes and stands up now. "Um, so, what happened?"

"I thought everything was fine," Clint hutches his shoulders in genuine shock and agreement of Steve's confusion. "At first, I thought w were just getting boring, then Laura's becoming more distant. She's telling me all these things and I'm quoting here, _'we're stuck in the same roles, Clint_ ," he imitates his wife with his arms spread out like he's accepting options. "At first, I was kinda pissed, but _I get it._ I don't know what happened, but we've just fallen into these roles and we're stuck like cement! There's no getting out of it!"

Steve bites his lip. Clint's really preaching to the choir, but he'd _never_ admit that. Yeah, he and Bucky are bored, but not bored enough to just _not_ want each other anymore.

_Right?_

Steve just nods and huffs a breath as Clint continues.

"It's like we're just _stuck_ ," he repeats in frustration and falls out on the sofa in defeat. "We're just _stuck_ in the same cycle, day in and day out. It's like we aren't even a couple anymore. It's like we're just really awesome roommates."

There's a part of Steve that wants to die inside at how accurate to he and Bucky that is. He refuses to nod in agreement and just sits beside Clint with a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder.

"That's not true," he finally says to his sad friend. "Look, I know Laura must be hurting right now. And I'm betting you she'll change her mind about all this."

Clint looks at him with a glimmer of hope.

 

 --

 

"Best fucking decision I ever made," Laura promptly tells Bucky as they clean up the snacks from tonight's meeting. Bucky cocks a brow at her as he dries off a dish. "Seriously!" His friend insists and shuts the faucet off when she's done scrubbing the last dish. “I couldn't be happier! I can do what I want. I can go dancing," she continues, sounding way too cheerful for someone who's going through a divorce. "When was the last time you and Steve actually _danced_?"

Bucky thinks a moment. "Our wedding night," he remembers vaguely.

"Okay, well I wanna dance. Every night. And I wanna take my top off and flash high school seniors. And get it on with, like, three guys at once."

Bucky cringes. " _Three_ guys? That sounds like a nightmare," he blanches at the thought and eyes Laura. "I can only think of jobs for two....oh, nope, there's another one," he thinks to himself and Laura nods.

"Yup," she answers and pops the 'p' as she takes a sip of her wine.

"I still don't understand how this happened," Bucky says for what feels like the third or fourth time since revealing her and Clint were splitting up. "I really don't."

Laura shakes her head in thought. "It's just feels like he went on autopilot."

"Well, I still don't understand what you want." Bucky's been trying to figure this out from every angle but he _can't_. It was only Christmas when he and Steve were over here for their annual Barton Christmas party. There was nothing wrong. Everything seemed so easy and happy.

Talk about keeping up appearances.

With great disdain, she rolls her eyes and purses her lips. "I feel like we know each other too well. I know _everything_ about him. I know he's half deaf and is obsessed with archery, and he knows that when I have more than five glasses of wine, I'm gonna try and streak up and down the neighborhood."

"You're _still_ doing that, huh?" Bucky fries his hands and sips his glass of wine.

"Yeah," she admits with no shame but Bucky shakes his head.

 The fact that he can attest to everything Laura's saying is startling. He knows Steve like the back of his hand. To avoid dwelling on that thought, he just listens to what else Laura's saying.

"It's just been the _same_ talks, _same_ schedules, having sex in the _same_ positions two times a week," she complains, but Bucky just blinks at her.

"You guys were having sex _twice_ a week?" He asks. That sounds like a blessing compared to the dry spell going on in his and Steve's pants.

"Yeah, that rare."

"Yes," Bucky blurts out. " _Rare_ is why I was surprised."

The blue in Laura's eyes brighten when she analyzes Bucky closely. He narrows his own eyes at her as if to ask 'what?!'

"You are a lot like Bella, Bucky," she suddenly says and points to his chest.

"What?" Bucky barks and looks at her like she's crazy. "I'm _not_ like Bella," he begins to say, but Laura cuts in.

"Yes, you are. Oh, boy, you are."

 "Why are we talking about _me_? This is about you turning into a stripper-" he reasons, but she hears none of it when she pokes his chest now and smirks.

"No, you _are_ like Bella, Bucky, because you are afraid of how strong you are. How free you can be. You deserve to dance again. You deserve to feel free. Run with the wolves, Bucky."

That sounds heavenly.

To dance again, especially.

To have Steve hold him in his big arms and sway without a care in the world while the music plays and it feels like it's only them two. It'd be a miracle the day Steve makes him feel _free_ and _strong_ again. To feel _alive_ again. To feel wanted and desired by the only man in the world he's ever loved.

What if that day never comes and they end up like Laura and Clint? As unsatisfied as he and Steve are, he can never see them apart. _Never_.

_Right?_

"Hey, I feel plenty free. And strong," he says convincingly, waving Laura off. "Maybe not running with wolves kinda free, but Steve makes me feel free...in _different_ ways. In fact, tomorrow's date night."

Laura seems to approve and dauntingly takes a drink of wine. "Okay, sure. Enjoy the dry gravy."

It's scary to think she's right.

"Run with the wolves, Bucky," she whispers encouragingly and pets his head like she would a dog.

He ducks away from her. He doesn't need to run with the wolves. He and Steve are gonna be _fine_.

He hopes.

 

 -- 

 

The ride home is quiet.

Steve looks at Bucky.

Bucky turns his head to look at Steve.

Steve looks away and smiles fondly at the road ahead.

Although the car is quiet, their heads are loud and swimming with the thoughts their friends had put there.

* * *

 

 

Deep down, Bucky knows Laura was right about him feeling freer.

In his line of work, there's not much room for customizing his appearance without appearing unprofessional which explains the cookie cutter look of his hair smoothed back and wearing suits that cover up his tattoos.

It's become so implanted in his brain that work and marriage are the same thing that he's let himself bring that side of himself to date night. That's _not_ right.

Tonight's gonna be _different_. He _feels_ it.

When he comes home from getting a new haircut -long on top with the sides shaved off - he pulls out the nicest pair of formfitting black slacks that make his ass look plump and an old pair of leather, biker boots that have an inch tall heel. He trades the button down for a stylish, beige crewneck and the suit jacket for a leather one with decorative zippers. He hasn't worn his diamond stud earrings since starting his job, so he pulls those out of his jewelry box and puts them on.

For a moment, he doesn't even recognize himself in the mirror when he checks his whole ensemble. He looks _good_.

 _Sexy_ even.

Steve'll love it. It's been a while since he'd dressed like this on a date night.

He ruffles his hair once so his natural curls bounce. Steve used to love playing in Bucky's hair and tell him the curls were the best part about doing so. He'd forgotten he's had them because he's been pushing his long hair back for so long. In fact, he looks younger. Kinda like how he did when he and Steve met on NYU campus all those years ago.

The memory gets him smiling. Date night's going to be _fun_ tonight. He can tell.

He's descending the stairs just as his husband's walking through the door. Confident, he strikes a quick pose to expose himself, but Steve barely glances in his direction. "Hey, babe," he says sweetly and joins the twins and Darcy in the living room.

Bucky's shoulders drop while his smile fizzles out. Well, they're off to a bad start.

"Hey, Darce. Hey, guys," Steve greets Wanda and Pietro, kneeling tiredly to the coffee table in front of them. "What'd you guys learn in school today?"

"Nothing," they sing in unison.

"Great. Won't have to pay for college," Steve deadpans with a tight smile.

Bucky approaches the living room entrance and subtly presents himself. "Do you wanna change?" He announces more than asks to grab everyone's attention.

"No, I think I'm go- _whoa_." Steve's eyes expands twice their size when he gets his first look at Bucky. The twins exchange a look while Darcy just smirks at the interaction. "Wow. Um, _wow_. Whoa," Steve keeps saying with a sideways smile and hearts in his eyes. " _Whoa_ , Buck."

He's not sure what takes over him being on display like this, but suddenly, Bucky's feeling a little foolish. It's just date night, right? This whole get-up is so unnecessary for just going down the street. "Oh, um, it's just something I just threw on," he lies, even though he'd been planning this outfit for the entire time since leaving the Barton's. "It's stupid. I'm gonna go cha-"

" _No_ ," Steve interrupts him and begins to get up from his spot on the carpet. "No, babe, you look _great_. _Fantastic_ , even. _I'm_ going to change. I'm gonna go take a shower and change," he says, mind made up. There's no way his husband's outfit is going to waste on a night like this.

"We don't wanna miss the movie," Bucky tries to protest.

Steve notices the effort. It's sweet and very Bucky-like, but he refuses to let this look go to waste. He gets an idea.

"How about _no_ movie?" He suggests, going towards Bucky with a raised chin. "I'm taking you to dinner in the city."

Bucky's eyebrows shoot up, but that seems too good to be true. "We don't have to that."

"Yes, we do," Steve insists and brushes passed him to get up the stairs. "I'll be ready in ten minutes." He steps up one stair before swirling around to face his Bucky. "I'm taking you to that new seafood place you read about."

" _Shield_?" Bucky replies in disbelief. Instead of relishing in the sentiment, he sees literally everything wrong with that. "It's _impossible_ to get it. And plus, the city's so far."

"No, it's not. Don't you tell all your perspective clients it's, like, twenty minutes away?"

"Yeah, I'm _lying_ to them. It's an _hour_ ," he admits, staring up at Steve who's now checking his watch on his wrist.

"No, babe, if we leave in ten minutes, get up there by seven, we can get a table no problem! Yes?" He says cheerfully, ascending the stairs with an attempted skip in his step. "Yes? _Yes_. Say _yes_!" He exclaims happily.

Bucky knows Steve means well. Not much good could come of this, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Steve that. "Yes," he grins.

Steve claps and heads to the bedroom all the while goofily shouting, "Yes! Yes! Yes, we're doing it!"

This should be interesting.

Bucky finds his smile again.

Well, tonight _could_ be fun.

 

\--

 

As promised, they're out the house in ten minutes and making good time to the city. It all seems to be on the up and up until the navigational system puts in her two cents.

" _Turn right onto Main Street_ ," she chirps in her automated British accent.

Steve clicks her off and imitates her in a cockney accent. "No way, lady."

"Steve, just listen to the nice, English, robot lady," Bucky tells him, rolling his eyes. Nothing good usually comes of Steve doing things his way.

"No way. That's too far of a route. I have an important dinner to get to with _my gorgeous husband_ ," he side eyes a blushing Bucky who's still looking at him sternly. "I'm taking the parkway to 97th St. It's much quicker."

Bucky exhales. "It's 'cus it's a woman's voice," he concludes, staring back at the road before them. "If that thing had Samuel L. Jackson's voice, you'd listen to it."

" _What_? No-"

"Make a left onto 97th St., motha-fucka," Bucky commands in his best and deepest Sam Jackson voice, getting Steve to laugh and shakes his head.

"No, babe," Steve chuckles and taps his fingers to the beat of the song over the radio. "No, I've got this covered. I'm taking the Steve Rogers shortcut. Gonna get us there quickly, efficiently, and with great care like a new born goat."

Steve's too cute and hopeful to say "I told you so" to when they get into an hour of traffic after that.  Bucky sits there with a grumbling stomach while Steve does his best to not let Bucky see him click the GPS back on.

* * *

 

 

 "Okay, so it wasn't much of a shortcut."

Bucky looks at his husband but can't help but grin as they exit the parking garage. It's been a while since they've been in the city, so that's enough to lighten his mood. Feels good to be home. It feels especially good to home with the man of his dreams on his arm.  It's practically their summer love all over again.

"We'll be fine," he assures him and latches onto Steve's arm as they bustle down the street towards the restaurant. They make small talk on the way, actually laughing and enjoying each other's time. Just as they see the entrance of Shield, their stride is interrupted when a young couple pops in front of them looking frantic and needy.

"Hi, excuse me!" The male calls to them, hand up to halt them. "Hi! So sorry to bother you."

Before either Steve or Bucky can say anything, the female dives right into an explanation.

"This is so embarrassing, but we just moved here from Wichita," she begins, gesturing to the male. "My husband's in veterinary school. We parked our car on Harrison St. to take a look around and when we came back, our car had been towed. Everything we own was in there, now it's all gone..." she cries, exasperated.

Sharing a silent look, Bucky and Steve smirk and duck their heads to hide their laughter. This is the oldest game in the book.

"...and the tow company won't release our property till we pay them a fifteen dollar fee for-" she goes on, but it triggers Bucky.

"And _there_ it is," he interrupts giddily before she can make an even fool of herself with the unnecessary theatrics. He points to them two with an accusing finger. "Hey, guys, we haven't been to the city in the while, but we're _not_ idiots."

"Excuse me?" The husband says, playing the perplexing role to a tee.

"We _know_ you're scamming us," Steve tells them as politely as possible. "With the sob story, the details, the oddly specific amount of money. Sorry."

"Yeah, it's too much," Bucky agrees with an eye roll.

"Not falling for it. Find someone from Connecticut," Steve says dismissively and they're continuing their way onto the restaurant. Because he's low key an angel, Steve twirls on his heels to face the couple. "But," he adds as an afterthought while he pulls out his wallet. "Although I know it's a scam, I'm going to give you five dollars." He passes them a twenty which the couple - who are beyond offended and shocked - take. "Although, that is a twenty pretend it's a five. Do with that which you will. But, I know it's a scam. Just saying."

Bucky does his best not to laugh again. His husband is the dorkiest person _ever_. Even in the face of a scam, he can't not help those in need. Steve pulls them along with his head held high towards the decorative glass doors of Shield.

"They had _no idea_ who they were dealing with," Bucky mutters to him. You can take the boys out of Brooklyn, but you can't take the Brooklyn out of the boys.

Upon entering the restaurant, the couple is met with high ceilings adorned with glass fixtures and clay sculptures. There's an aquarium, lava lamps, and a waiting area that's probably the size of their entire house. The smell of the food fills the area, and they can already tell it smells too expensive to be trifled with.

 _Nothing_ about this place screams Paramus.

This _isn't_ where they're supposed to be. It feels more like a night club than a restaurant.

Bucky stays quiet about it while Steve approaches the hostess booth and gives a sunny, "Hi!" to the exotic looking hostess. She doesn't even lift her head from the reservation list when she addresses them.

“Name, please," she prompts, monotone.

"Um, actually, we _don't_ have a reservation," Steve explains. That gets the employee to lift her head and shoot irritated daggers at them.

"Yeah, we've been trying to call, but couldn't get through," Bucky informs her, but she looks no less frustrated.

" _Hmmm_ ," she hums. "Yeah, we're super-duper busy tonight. Seven o' clock dinner rush and all." The attitude on her could last her days in the desert. Steve's polite and elects to ignore it.

"Figured as much. Thought we'd get here a little earlier and grab a table really quick-"

"Didn't quite make it, did you?" She bats her lashes and pouts with feigned sympathy.

"Do you have any tables open?" Bucky asks hopefully but with as much passive aggression he can muster, refusing to let this chick ruin his date night.

"Oh, wow - see the thing is people usually make their reservation a month in advance. It's Friday, sweetheart. So... _no_ ," she quips and flutters her lashes again. Bucky remembers the city being tough, not snooty. He feels like if he rolls his eyes anymore tonight, they'll fall out his head so he just clenches his jaw and stares her down till she gets so uncomfortable that she has to look at Steve.

"My husband and I are on a date, and we we're kinda hoping tonight would be special-"

"How sweet."

Of all the times Bucky's ever wanted to slap someone, now is a perfect opportunity. He just turns his head to look at Steve. Steve chortles with red cheeks and continues. "We were kinda hoping that Shield could be a part of that. So, you're _sure_ they're no tables open?"

\Seeing that they're persistent in their date night, the hostess sort of gives in. "Well, I'm gonna ask you guys to stand over by the bar," she instructs, pointing behind her. "And if _anything_ opens up, I'll let you know." Her sincerity sounds so put on, it makes both he and Bucky sick.

"Thank you," Bucky stiffly says with a smart ass smile of his own as he takes Steve's hand and directs them towards the square, glass bar at the center of the restaurant.

"You're _so_ welcome."

"We'll just be over there," Steve says over his back but the hostess just nod, u excited at the news and rolls her eyes with her head back to her booth to answer the ringing phone. He disregards it - it's date night. Bucky looks hella good and he's not feeling to shabby himself. It's a setback, but he still has high hopes for the night.

"I think we'll get a table," he expresses his positivity to Bucky as lighthearted as possible when they reach the bar. "I think we'll get lucky."

A sharp brow of Bucky quirks at that along with a suggestive grin playing over his plump lips. Steve turns hot and red and giggles a little.

"No, I didn't mean like that," he corrects himself and finds a quick distraction in the bartender saucing together a martini. "You want a drink?"

"Yeah, something with an edible garnish. I'm starvin', Steve," he nods his head and leans into his husband enough to smell his cologne. It's not the kind he usually wears. This is a new musky, log cabin kinda scent. It fits him; Bucky likes it.

Steve waves his hand about to grab the attention of the bartender. "Hey, hey, um... Excuse me? Hey? Can I get two Chardonnays, please?" He shouts over the commotion and the loud music. The bar tender ignores him, but somehow Steve’s still pretty positive about all this.

"Must be distracted," he utters to himself but Bucky's frowning.

"You don't wanna go someplace else?"

"What? Give it time. It's fine," Steve assures him and kisses his forehead unexpectedly. He hasn't don't that in a while and it throws Bucky off guard for a second. His insides flutter and his cheeks are probably really red.

" _Ruffalo_! Party of two!" Another hostess is yelling over the chaos and searches the bar are, menus in hand.

"I just want tonight to be different."

" _Ruffalo_! Party of two!"

"Yeah, I do, too," Bucky smiles with care at his golden retriever cupcake of a husband. He gets what he's trying to do, but it's perfectly okay if they don't. It's the thought that counts truly. "But, Steve-"

" _No_ , we're good babe-"

" _Ruffalo_! Party of two!" The hostess gets louder and looks about dead tired of straining her voice with no response.

"C'mon, Steve. Look around," he gestures to their eccentric surroundings, still holding that smile and inhaling Steve's scent. "This place _ain't_ us."

" _Ruffalo_!" The hostess says again. Steve glares in her general direction, slightly distracted and a little curious. The ideas forming in his head, but maybe he shouldn't.

Should he?

"C'mon, baby, whaddyou say? We can rent a movie. Get Chinese take-out," his husband suggests with a willing attitude. "It's _fine_."

One of the reasons Steve married Bucky is because of how accepting he is. He's a loving, strong, sentimental goofball that's been putting up with a lot of Steve's shit the entire time they've been married. He doesn't wanna admit that Bucky could leave him, but he knows it could happen.

With a frown, Steve exhales. He loves this man so much. It's high time he's gone back to showing him that.

And plus, a _little_ excitement never killed anyone.

Bucky doesn't sound _too_ happy to be reduced to a dinner and movie at home, so Steve shakes his head at him. He's stubborn and when he sets his mind to something, by God, _he does it._

He promise Bucky dinner in the city. And _that's_ what he's gonna give him.

"Us!" He suddenly yells, gazing into Bucky's eyes and seeing everything he's missed in the past few years. "Us!"

Bucky's face drops before he can stop Steve. This was going to be worth it, so Steve doesn't even pay mind to his husband's surprised expression.

The blond turns to the waitress and with a proud smirk announces:

" _We_ are the _Ruffalos_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I didn't forget about this story, I swear. My Date Night DVD has been in my DVD player since I started this, and creating a movie fusion is more difficult than I'd thought with getting similar dialogue and making sure the story line is the same and all that hooplah. Haha, but I hope you guys caught my little ode to Mark Ruffalo, who actually stars in the movie. The reason I used his last name is because of everyone on the cast of The Avengers, his the most whimsical and distinctive, much like the last name Tripplehorn. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed. Updates coming soon!


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that all I have to worry about is writing the epilogue for Brother, I can focus on my other stories like this trash can that I pretended didn't exist for two years. Enjoy!

The anxiety brought upon by following the hostess to the table had Bucky's palms and forehead drenched with sweat while Steve remained cool as a cucumber, smiling at other customers as though to say _see, we can eat fancy, too!_

It almost pissed Bucky off to see his husband so smug, but damn if he wasn't cute as hell when he did.

With each step, Bucky's heart pounds and halfway to the table, he grabs Steve's arm, pulling him backward hiss in his ear. "Are you crazy? We can't just take someone's reservation!"

"Well, we just did," he whispers back, walking at just the right speed to follow the snobby hostess and hear Bucky's dilemma. "Calm down, babe, people do this all the time."

"Okay, but we're not _those_ kinds of people, Steve," he says ridiculously, feeling every eye in the restaurant on him despite that not being the case. "We do take-out and bitch about not being able to rent a movie from Blockbuster anymore. We don't do dinner in the city and we especially don't take other people's reservations like common criminals!"

Before Steve can respond, the hostess presents them with their comfortable booth far off from the commotion of the bar, setting the menus on either side. "You guys enjoy your meal. Your waiter will be assisting you shortly."

"Thank you!" Steve nearly exclaims like the fucking dork he is, and before they're able to sit down, a complimentary cup of ice water is being filled for each of them.

Bucky slides into his side of the booth with a grimace and eyes his surroundings one good time before glancing over at Steve. "Babe, are you sure we should be doing this?"

His husband is so cute when he's excited, and it shows with how huge his smile is. "Yeah, Buck, it's not a big deal. Look, the Ruffalos are a no-show, so who are we hurting?"

In that moment, Steve reaches over the table to take Bucky's hand reassuringly in his, and the simple gesture has both of their hearts swimming as they stay connected across the table for another couple of seconds before Steve pulls his hand back to look at the menu.

"It's date night, so we're just gonna relax and eat to our hearts's desires."

Steve's eyes grow massive at the food selection and even wider at the prices assigned to each meal. "Or, we could eat the table. Jesus, _these prices_ ," he mumbles low enough so no one else will hear him complain.

Bucky makes a similar look and frowns as he reviews the options provided. "If we're gonna pay this much for crab, he better sing about how shiny he is and introduce us to Moana."

Steve chuckles then shudders darkly at the lengthy and dedicated Moana phase Pietro and Wanda went through last year. _Never again_.

"So, here's to a good date night, huh?" Steve says, taking Bucky's hand again.

Bucky is two seconds from dying right there. He has a crush on his husband - _how much more embarrassing can he be?!_

"Yeah," he agrees, meeting Steve's expectant blue eyes. "A great date night."

 

 --

 

The couple loses themselves in the best way possible.

Their bill has already racked up to about two-hundred something dollars, but they are both two tipsy on delicious red wine to care. As uneventful as dinner for two should be, it's the best Steve and Bucky had felt in a long while.

" _God_ ," Bucky moans, chewing his pasta blissfully. "I'd cut off my left arm for this linguini."

"Really?" Steve laughs, pouring himself more wine and taking a long gulp. "Your left arm?"

"Yeah, the whole thing. Just chop it right the hell off," he says, nodding while piling more food into his mouth. "Jesus, this is so good."

Steve smiles at Bucky, heart full and elated that his plan was working out. Bucky was having fun and there was a spark in the air between them. As he looks around the restaurant, he smirks at the sophisticated groups and parties around them, and zeroes in on a couple a few tables over.

It's a young girl about twenty-one blinking with pathetic boredom written on her expression as she listens attentively to her considerable older date ramble on. She sips her wine unenthusiastically, internally praying for a hero, and it's so unfortunate.

"Hey," he says, nodding towards them. "What's the story?"

Bucky looks up and then behind him at the couple, smirking with Steve. He hums, analyzing.

"He's a big wig on Wall Street, early fifties, probably voted for Trump," he guesses and watches her take a second sip of wine in thirty seconds. "And she is getting drunk enough to endure what is going to happen later 'cus he's probably into getting spanked with wire hangers while wearing a cowboy hat."

Steve chuckles with his husband, imagining the scene and almost wishing he hadn't. "I can see it," he agrees.

Bucky gestures behind him now and asks, "What's the story?"

Steve does a quick glance to see and realizes he's staring at none other than New York's own, actress and singer, Jennifer Lopez, minding her business as she enjoys a meal with a group of friends.

Starstruck and shocked by the coincidence, he whips back to his husband, smiling wide like the dork he is.

"Bucky, _that's Jennifer Lopez_!" He whisper-yells, glancing back again to assure it's her, and sure enough it is.

Bucky, unfazed and still playing along, nods and chuckles awkwardly in agreement despite not recognizing her. "Okay, better yet, she's Jennifer Lopez and-"

"No, no, no-" Steve shakes his head and does an awkward hip gyration in his seat in imitation of a dance move he'd seen her do in a music video. "Like Jenny from the block! Like _J.Lo_!"

"Jello?" Bucky asks and they both explodes in a fit of drunk giggles, distracted so much that they don't even notice the two burly, stoic looking brunette men approach their table.

"Excuse me, Mr. and Mr. Ruffalo?" The one closest to Steve - sporting his dark hair slicked back with way too much hair gel - interrupts, staring at the two of them with dark and disinterested eyes. Steve, unalarmed, looks up at him, laughter still dying out between he and his husband.

"Yes, we are the Ruffalos," he drawls, clearing his throat. "Who are you to be asking us who we are to ask you who we are...us?" He tries to ask, words getting lost and slurred from the influence of the wine. Bucky snorts and covers his mouth.

"We'd just like to exchange a few words with the two of you," he explains politely, despite his partner's annoyance as his eyes flash between Steve and Bucky. His goatee is thick and very fitting considering he looks like he bench presses baby elephants.

"And what is this about?" Steve wonders, looking at Bucky who appears just as tipsy as ever.

The other man- Goatee - finally speaks. "I think you know," he gruff out, annoyance growing and patience thinning.

Bucky looks at Steve again, expectantly this time because damnit, he knew this would happen! He knew taking someone's table wasn't a bright idea, and now they're being thrown out.

However, he can't say he's not having a good time, and that alone makes being kicked out very much worth it. It beats cold gravy and stupid book clubs.

"Why don't we save ourselves a little embarrassment and move this conversation to somewhere private?" Gelled Hair suggests, gesturing to the exit.

"Okay, but before we do, could I get my linguini to-go because this pasta is very good and super expensive!" Bucky tells them, bubbly and oblivious to the fact that they've worked the men'a last nerves.

Tired, Goatee sighs. "Get up. _Now_ ," he demands.

Steve turns back to Bucky.

"Honey?" He says. "Get up. _Now_ ," he growls out the poor impression before losing it and bursting into another round of giggles with his husband.

Goatee and Gelled Hair aren't at all amused but Steve and Bucky comply anyway, giggling as they drink the rest of the wine on their glasses and rising from their seats.

"It's an expensive bottle," Steve explains quietly, but Goatee sneers.

"Yeah, lets just get on now," he murmurs while his partner remains patient and does an outstanding job of not showing his annoyance outright.

Bucky takes his bowl and fork with him - because like he said, this pasta ain't cheap - munching on his linguini as the two men lead he and Steve out a back door exit. Other restaurant goers stare at the interaction while some don't give them a second thought, but Bucky feels compelled to assure them anyway.

"We're leaving by choice," he tells anyone who listens with conviction. Steve ushers himself and Bucky outside into the alleyway where Bucky dives right into an explanation.

"Okay, guys, what's the big deal? We didn't hurt anyone!" He reasons, referring to the table, linguini swimming in sauce in his bowl when he sloshes it about.

"If I were you," Goatee starts, practically growling. "I wouldn't say another word, _thieving bitch_."

That sobers them up real quick.

Bucky, shocked by the sudden shift in atmosphere, jumps to defend himself despite the fear rising up the back of his neck.

"Excuse me, sir, but _no_?" He says, because what else can he say? Who outright calls someone a bitch for taking a reservation? New York was tough, but that was just uncalled for.

"Hey, wait a second!" Steve cuts in, expression pinched with distaste, taking a step forward. "Let's dial this down a bit, fellas-"

And before either men know it, the two men are roughly groping them down, effectively snatching their wallets and phones right out of their pockets with such lightning speed all either men can do is yelp out " _hey, what are you doing!_ " and squeal out " _gimme my phone!_ " as they squirm with the onslaught of hands all over them.

Even though Bucky is scared and his suspicion is rising, he has his priorities in check and makes special effort to not let his bowl of pasta tip over or drop.

Once their pockets are cleared, they expect the two men to run off but instead they stand there, staring menacingly at the couple like they'd done everything wrong.

Influenced by the wine, Bucky pouts and points a finger outward at them. "Okay, look, I am getting seriously pissed off! This is going way beyond a negative review on Yelp!"

Bucky's entire world caves in on itself and crashes down when Goatee smacks the dish out of his hand, shattering the bowl and sending his expensive linguini everywhere on the dirty pavement of the alleyway.

"Aw, man!" He groans, mourning his pasta then sending daggers at the goatee wearing pasta murderer. "Now I'm gonna have to pick that linguini off the ground to eat it! Do you know how dirty the floor is?"

"I wanna speak with your boss _right now_!" Steve demands. They'd been away from the city a while which would explain why he nor Bucky are not familiar with the shake down policy their restaurants have suddenly implemented.

"I think we both know that's not gon' happen, Mr. Ruffalo," Goatee says then pauses to look at Steve's license in his wallet. "Or should I say ' _Steve Rogers_ '?"

"Next time you make a dinner reservation don't use the same alias as your ransom notes, dickhead," Gelled Hair chimes in.

Steve's face twists in confusion. "Ransom note?" he repeats under his breath.

"Listen, we're just a boring, regular degular, white couple from Jersey," Bucky explains hastily and the Brooklyn in him looks pained to say it. "Jersey wasn't our first choice, but ya know."

"Let's just get this shit done," Goatee prompts, looking at the two of them expectantly.

"Get _what_ done? What do you want?" Steve asks, still confused and almost intrigued but Bucky is sweating bullets beside him, still hurt about his dinner on the ground.

"You know _exactly_ what we want," Gelled Hair tells him and there's a pregnant pause between the four of them.

"No, we don't," Bucky insists and Steve agrees, shaking his head as he carefully looks both men down. _What the fuck is going on_?

"You. Know. What. We. Want," Goatee annunciates carefully and completely loses all his cool when Steve and Bucky share a questioning and lost glance at each other.

"We want the flash drive!" He roars and that doesn't help either Steve or Bucky's nerves.

"Alright, okay, let's just calm down," Steve tries but he can't even convince himself to do so.

"Did you really think you could steal from Alexander Pierce and get away with it?" Gelled Hair wonders, never looking away from the couple, and that's more unsettling than his partner's erratic yelling.

"Someone somewhere is making a big mistake," Bucky says as a reasonable excuse, gripping Steve's arm tightly.

"Yeah, guys, this is just one big misunderstanding." Steve gestures to he and his husband. "We are Steve and James Rogers, boring white couple from Jersey. We don't know anything about a ransom note or a flash drive or anything! I assure you!"

Gelled Hair squints his eyes. "You were sitting at the table. The girl in the front said you are the Ruffalos-"

"Oh, okay, no. Lemme explain," Bucky interrupts, patting Steve's chest. "My husband, very sweetly but with much delusion, thought that we could make it on time before the dinner rush to get a table. Spoiler: we didn't! We were late because he won't listen to the GPS unless it sounds like Samuel L. Jackson!"

Gelled Hair's eyebrows fly upward.

"We got here, and they were _so fucking rude_!" Bucky recalls, eyes rolling back with pure hatred while Steve nods beside him with agreeing commentary.

"That one chick? God, _anyway_... he heard them saying the reservation for Ruffalo and we was like _'us_!' So, we took it! And honestly, we had a good time! Way better than gravy in Jersey! He had steak, I had pasta, Jennifer Lopez was there-"

"Yeah, he didn't know who that was," Steve mutters and Bucky side eyes him.

"You're really gonna tell them I didn't know-" Bucky begins, completely forgetting where they were but quickly reminded when Goatee goes off again.

"Aye, shut up! I'm not trying to hear that," he grumbles.

"So, you just took someone else's reservation," Gelled Hair almost sounded disgusted.

"For the record, I was against it," Bucky adds and know Steve side eyes him. "My husband gets these plans in his head, and he's super stubborn-"

"I'm an idiot sometimes." Steve can admit that much.

"-so it's his way or the highway," Bucky goes on.

"Shut it!" Gelled Hair barks and regards them. "I believe you're the Rogers's."

"Thank you," Bucky sighs in relief.

"I also believe you go by the alias Ruffalo-"

" _No, no, no_ -" Bucky whines.

"-you stole my boss's property-"

"Fuck, _no, no, no_..." Steve groans, gripping Bucky's arm back.

"-and now you're too scared shitless to admit it, so I will give you three seconds to give me back the flash drive!"

Bucky frowns. "The three seconds game? Sorry, sir, I play this game with my kids, like, all the time-"

"He _invented_ the three second game," Steve adds.

Just as quickly as they'd snatched their belongings, Gelled Hair pulls a handgun from nowhere and has it aimed right at Bucky's forehead.

"I will clear your top," he threatens and that's the second shit gets so fucking real.

"This is a different version!" Bucky yelps, going pale white while his heart collapses in his chest as he stares the weapon in its face.

" _One_ ," Gelled Hair begins counting and Steve is pretty much frozen in place. _How did their night come to this?_

"Okay, big mistake! This is all just a big mistake! We're not the Ruff-"

" _Two_ ," he says, now pointing the gun at Steve's face and slowly bends his wrist to have the gun pointed on its side.

"Oh my god, _he turned it sideways_! Kill shot! Fuck, kill shot!" Steve's yelping, unsure with what to do with a gun in his face aside from shit himself.   
  
Bucky's shaking and bouncing beside him like a hyper child, screaming hysterically to grab the attention of anyone listening. "Oh my god, this is like that one episode of _Degrassi_ where Drake gets shot in the back!"

"You know Drake but you don't know Jennifer Lopez?" Steve is shouting back, head swimming too fast for him to catch up. _What the almighty fuck is happening?!_

" _Three_!" Gelled Hair shouts with finality.

Steve fully believes he has the guts to shoot both of them regardless of whether they had the flash drive or not.

Like always, he doesn't think and just does.

He jumps in front of Bucky to shield him and assures the gun follows.

"No, no, no, no! Wait! Wait, wait, wait! _I've got it!_ I've got it - I've got the flash drive! _I have the flash drive_! Just don't hurt him! I've got the flash drive," he yells, not fully comprehending what he's saying.

Bucky huffs. " _What_?" he whispers behind Steve, gripping the jacket of his suit like a life vest.

"Thought so," Gelled Hair smirks.

"Where is it?" Goatee demands.

Steve says the first location to pop in his head. "The...park."

"Could you be more specific?" Gelled Hair rolls his eyes.

"The, ugh, Central Park. Central Park."

If the man weren't literally standing between himself a gun right now, Bucky would thump his husband upside the head. _Of all the places in New York, Stevie?_

"So, this is what's gonna happen: we're all gonna take a field trip to the Central Park, play?"

Steve nods, practically kissing the bullet with how close his face is to the gun. "Okay."

" _Move_!" Goatee instructs, pointing to the car parked behind them near a dumpster. The couple turns and begins to walk towards the car, hands never parting to even get in on different sides.

"Oh, we're going to a second location," Bucky's muttering worriedly. "Fuck, we're getting in the car. This is _not good_. This is basic stranger danger. Never get into a stranger's car! Wanda and Pete would be so mad."

"You talk too much," Gelled Hair tells him and it's his turn for Steve to side eye him now.

"He babbles when he's nervous."

Minute relief washes over them both when Gelled Hair finally puts the gun away and takes the driver's seat. Once Goatee is strapped into the passenger's seat, the engine roars to life and the four of them are on their way to Central Park.

* * *

As predicted, the car ride is silent.

The least their kidnapping bookies could do is play some soft jazz to compensate for threatening their lives.

Bucky, with his eyes glued to the back of Goatee's head, wraps his fingers around the door handle and pushes with all his might.

Obviously, the door doesn't open and now he just looks goofy.

"Yeah, 'cus we'd leave the door unlocked," Gelled Hair taunts.

Steve, out of curiosity does the same exact thing minutes later, and the two men groan.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Steve agrees, chuckling to himself nervously. "I would've done that, too."

* * *

 

They arrive at the park about half an hour later.

It's dark, abandoned, and dead silent.

The two men are out of the car before the engine can fully stop.

Bucky leans towards Steve and grabs his hand to squeeze. "Why did you bring us to the most deserted place in New York?" He asks hushed tones.

"I don't know, Buck! I panicked. The gun was sideways!"

"We gotta get someplace populated."

"Um, there might be some couples here night boating!"

"Night boating?" Bucky repeats incredulously.

"Yeah, it's a big thing here with weird straight couples to go night boating. I read it in some article for New York Times-"

The door on Bucky's side opens and they both jump at the two gun pointed at them.

"We gotta go to the boat house," Steve tells the men.

"Get out of the car."

The path to the boathouse is just as deserted as the rest of the park with not a couple in sight. The water of the pond is still with nothing but light ripples to represent any form of movement in the whole area. Bucky, neck tingling with the heat of the gun pointed at his back walks forward to the boathouse, mentally cursing this night.

"There's no one here," Bucky murmurs.

"Now that I'm thinking about it, that straight couples night boating thing might have been in Seattle," Steve whispers to him.

The four of them stop upon approach of the boathouse. The deck squeaks with every step either of them make.

There's a chain and lock wrapped around the handle of the door, and the two men glare at the couple.

"Open the door!" Goatee barks.

Steve and Bucky turn towards them with hesitation and share another look between them.

"Um, you might have to break in. Don't have a, um, key, on me," his voice croaks.

Goatee and Gelled Hair share a look now.

Bucky gasps when they both walk passed them to handle the lock on the door.

"Stay put." Gelled Hair keeps his gun on them while he watches his partner's six.

"We have to get near people immediately," Bucky whispers low enough so that neither men will hear. "Let's say you have a medical condition in urgent need of a treatment with medicine that can only be administered by a registered medical professional."

"Okay, good." Steve nods. "What's it for?"

"For your dick," he rushes out almost too quick for Steve to catch it. "We'll say you had an overdose on Viagra last year, your penis nearly fell off, and that every know and again, you need a steroid shot in the scrotum so that your penis doesn't invert into your body. Now, you're very shy, so we have to get to a doctor immediately or your dick will fall off-"

"Why can't it be _your_ dick?"

Goatee fires a shot at the chain and it falls to the ground in a heavy pile. Bucky and Steve shriek a little while the echo of the shot rings out into the park.

"Let's go."

The boathouse is dark just as the rest of their surroundings. The two bookies are closing in on them, following them around the small space, ready to shoot at the moment any bullshit arises.

"Where is it?" Gelled Hair asks, waving his gun around the boathouse impatiently.

Bucky takes a very deep breath and turns to them again. "Okay, here's the thing: Steve has a _very_ serious medical condition-"

"Bucky," Steve warns, eyes wide. His husband is really doing this. "Just give 'em the flash drive."

Bucky can't believe what he's hearing. "But we have to-"

"Buck, just show 'em where the flash drive is," Steve says pointedly, eyes wide and pleading for him to just trust him on this one.

"We have to go to the hospital."

"It's not gonna work. _Show. Them. Where. The. Flash. Drive. Is._ " He bites out each word but Bucky shakes his head. "It's not gonna work!"

" _Steve_."

" _Bucky_!"

"But your _penis_!" Bucky shouts back just as defiantly. Steve groans while the other two men watch in utter amazement.

"Bucky."

"It's a two step procedure," Bucky explains to the bookies. "It's needs to be done by a registered nurse!"

"Show 'em where it is!" Steve pleads.

"There's a special numbing cream imported all the way from Thailand-"

"Show them!"

"Hey," Goatee tries, but they keep going.

"-And if we don't have someone do this professionally and soon -"

"My penis is _fine_ ," Steve assures them, frustrated and insecure despite his penis being perfectly fine. "My dick works. Everything's fine."

"There could be a lot of blood! Lots of penis blood!"

"Bucky, show 'em where it is-"

"I don't know about you guys, but I'd hate to witness his penis shrivel up to the size of a pinkie nail and fall off-"

" _HEY_!"

Both men shut up now.

Goatee glares at Bucky. "Be a good boy and listen to your husband."

If the guy didn't have a gun, Bucky is sure he'd deck him.

"Yeah, be a good boy and listen to me," Steve consigns, trying to appear tough but only frustrating Bucky further. The look he gives his dorky husband is lethal.

Purely winging it, Bucky walks backwards and scans the room for a suitable hiding spot. There's a pile of boating supplies under a randomly placed canoe so he points there.

"I, um, out the flash drive there," he gulps. "Under the canoe. Under the other stuff."

"Show us," Gelled Hair instructs desperately and when Bucky looks to Steve for help, he just nods.

"Show them."

Bucky moves forward and lifts the canoe to reveal the life vests, oars, and fishing rods scattered on the floor. "It's somewhere in there. Don't really remember where."

Both men let down their guard to search in the excess boating supplies. After a moment of finding nothing, they scoff.

"Where is it?" one of them asks.

"You, um, might have to look a little deeper," Bucky tells them, heart halfway out of his chest. "I know it's in there."

"I don't see it."

"Um, I put it, ugh, deep in there in a sandwich baggies so that it wouldn't-"

The crash of an oar splintering against Gelled Hair's back sends Bucky's backwards with a surprised shout. The man instantly falls forward against the canoe and before his partner can grab his gun, Steve whacks him across the face with then end of the oar that isn't damaged.

He falls over, too, and for good measure, Bucky takes the oar from Steve to get in another hit, sending both men into a discombobulated mess of joints as they fall right into a workshop table, breaking it under their combined weight.

C'mon!" Steve grabs Bucky's hand and without looking back, the two of them make a run for it.


End file.
